Thoughts and Musings

I seem to be in a rough spot mentally and emotionally right now. Don't know what to call it, but it feels like a deep dark pit that an invisible hand pushes me into unexpectedly. Or like a dark cloud that is so oppressive I can literally feel the weight of it, giving "all you who are weary and heavy laden" a whole new meaning. While I've spent more time crying in the past month than I ever remember crying in the past, and while my mind is so muddled I can't make sense of anything (especially grocery shopping ... why did I buy a half gallon of buttermilk??!), and while none of this is fun and I desperately want to feel like my happy self again, God keeps telling me over and over through one source after another that He does not waste trials and pain. That He is sovereign. That He has a purpose for my good in this. Do I see the good? Honestly, not yet. I feel like a caterpillar wrapped so tightly in a cocoon, my vision is blurred by brown silk. I can't see a new me forming. I can't see God gently shaping my wings, infusing them with beautiful colors, leaving His fingerprints as He works. But I have to trust that the discomfort has an ultimate purpose. To think that suffering is wasted leaves one utterly hopeless.

I've been reading MaryBeth Chapman's book Choosing to SEE. She has become one of my heros, and I've decided that when I get to Heaven, I'm going to host a tea party for all these godly women whom I "know" from afar so we can become kindred spirits over vanilla chai (because there will be vanilla chai in Heaven! :-) While I don't even pretend to identify with the road her family has walked, I could relate to so much of what she wrote. Thought I would share some passages from her book that really spoke to me as well as some other quotes that have ministered to this muddled mind of late.

May this be your experience; may you feel that the Hand which inflicts the wound supplies the balm, and that He who has emptied your heart has filled the void with Himself.

~James Hudson Taylor

In the winter of our grieving and the frozen mourning of my plans that will never be and my dreams that have died - the reality is this: God's warm breath is on the move. New life is budding ... and often where I expected it the least, like right inside me.

~MaryBeth Chapman "Choosing to SEE"

I think I am realizing something through all the craziness. Yes, God wants my quiet, and yes, God wants me to rest and hear Him and learn from Him. But ... I realized that if I always think that I am going to finally get that place where I am constantly trying to get -- like in a quiet, picked-up house -- then I'm wrong.

I need to choose to SEE Christ in every birthday party I drive to, every piano lesson that gets taught, every ballet tutu that gets twirled. God is with me. He isn't waiting until I die for me to be with Him. He isn't waiting until BB season is over or until I get completely healthy. He SEES me now. He is with me now. I know this is a simple realization, but it was big good news to me.

~MaryBeth Chapman "Choosing to SEE"

Often when we thrill to the realization of a call from God, we picture going from our faces to our feet as He increasingly elevates our position. To accomplish our call, we must be humbled far more than exalted, though God certainly lifts up His faithful servant in due time.

~Beth Moore "Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman"

I Can Identify

"We're not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be." C. S. Lewis

Designed to Dance

My youngest has an affinity for "sad music." From what I can gather, her definition of "sad music" is any song with a slow rhythm. So this week #2 offered to share a cd filled with songs sure to please #3. As the melody filled the living room, I glanced over to find my sweet one, arms spread and chin raised, twirling and swaying to the music. Her expression was pure delight as she uninhibitedly danced with her invisible partner. Watching the vignette made me think.

Several years ago I read Captivating by Stasi Eldridge. Thought-provoking little book. One of her points has remained with me. She explained that God created women with a need to be wooed and romanced. Ok, no surprise there. But here's the kicker ... He is the romancer. The Knight in shining armor desiring to sweep us off our feet. The Prince Charming asking for this dance. The Lover in the Song of Solomon calling His Beloved to come away with Him. The Bridegroom delighting in His bride.

See, I think that God designed us to dance through life on His arm, gazing into His eyes while the things around us dim because we're so focused on Him. To have that "crazy in love" daze about us because we're so taken with Him. To be so in tune to His lead, that we respond to the slightest touch on our back. Yes, God designed us to dance, but we'll only truly be satisfied when He is our partner. Anyone else will step on our toes!

Great Quote

Can't remember where I first read this, but I ran across it today again and thought I'd post it. It's challenging, to say the least, but encouraging as well.

"There is nothing -- no circumstance, no trouble, no testing -- that can ever touch me until, first of all, it has gone past God and Christ, right through to me. If it has come that far, it has come with a great purpose, which I may not understand at the moment. But as I refuse to become panicky, as I lift up my eyes to Him and accept it as coming from the throne of God, for some great purpose of blessing to my own heart, no sorrow will ever disturb me, no trial will ever disarm me, no circumstance will cause me to fret, for I shall rest in the joy of what my Lord is. That is the rest of victory!" ~Alan Redpath, "Victorious Christian Living"

The Crucified Life

For years it seems I've been very aware of God asking me to deny myself. Except it doesn't feel as simple as self-denial. That sounds somewhat easy, like letting someone have the last cookie. No, it's much more excruciating than that. Maybe that's why Scripture refers to it as being crucified with Christ.

A couple years ago I thought I was going to drown in the innumerable opportunities to get beyond myself. Granted, mothering young children in itself is a wonderful tool to point out just how selfish you are. And mothering three provides three giant flashlights shining on things you thought you had well hidden! It felt like God and I would just finish working through an issue when another would raise its ugly head. What was worse is we often revisited issues I thought I had gotten over. As time went on and I got lots of practice, it became easier to turn to God as soon as I felt that nasty sense of self-entitlement creeping up. Yes I still had lots of opportunities to get my feathers ruffled, but the act of immediately giving Him the situation brought much peace.

Recently, a few circumstances resurrected familiar feelings of frustration and unfairness and self-righteousness I've been able to give to God for a long time. I haven't been in such a twit in a ages and I was shocked by how stealthily those feelings climbed on my shoulders until I was wearing such a burden of self-entitlement, it couldn't help but spill over onto those closest to me. Unfortunately, the outburst that seemed so right left a wake of guilt worse than the original frustration and anger. I was sure my intentions were pure. I was positive this time I had facts to back my feelings. However, if I was right, why did I feel so yucky? Again I asked myself a question I've asked myself (and God) innumerable times before -- what about me? Do I always have to put my feelings last and let You handle these silly frustrations? Can't I just tell people what I think??

Wouldn't you know, as I was doing my Esther Bible study this morning, Beth Moore talked about the crucified life. I didn't even finish the day's lesson, I got so hung up on this comment she made. She sited 2 Corinthians 4:10-11 --

We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life maybe revealed in our mortal body.

Her follow-up comment stopped me short: "Listen, Beloved. God's forte is life. He's just not willing to leave things dead. A paramount theme in Esther is what God can do when we resolve to obey and 'if I perish I perish.' Any time He calls us to die, His purpose is to reveal larger life."*

While Esther was risking her life by approaching the king, the principle holds true even with daily opportunities to deny oneself in the small things. God has a purpose. Just as a master gardener won't leave an empty space in his garden when a flower fades, God will replace what He's weeded with something lovely and beautiful, far surpassing anything that we could manufacture on our own. So to answer my "what about me" question, denying myself really is about me. Because while it seems painful and like part of me is being crucified again, God is answering my prayer to make me into the woman He desires me to be. And He's promised He has my good in mind. His desire is not to harm but to give me hope and a future. Is it painful? Very much so. Is it worth it? Beyond doubt.

*Quoted from Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman by Beth Moore.

Contemplating

I have few words of introduction for this video; everything I write, I delete. I am at a loss for words. Watch it and you will see why. God continues to bring to my attention the command to His people to care for widows and orphans. As I sit on my bed surrounded by wrapping paper, gifts -- the "necessary" trappings of the season -- I'm wondering how I'm responding to that call. I know beyond knowing that I need to take this to Him to receive my marching orders.

Thanksgiving

We had an unexpected adventure last night. I walked downstairs and stumbled into my family room ... turned wading pool. Apparently my washing machine (which has had a vendetta against me since it first came to live here) had decided to launch an attack. Water was EVERYWHERE! In seconds, our visions of putting the kids to bed early and cozying up by the fire were replace with rolled up cuffs, wet feet, and an evening of discovering just how far water can travel through a carpet pad. While it was not how I had planned to spend my night, pushing a carpet extractor back and forth for two hours supplied ample time to reflect on just how much I have to be thankful for.

I know people who lean toward the Pollyanna outlook on life can be really annoying :-) (perhaps because it seems to minimize real frustrations and struggles?). However, since we have an Eeyore in the house, I've tried to go beyond the norm to model finding the positive in life's less than pleasant circumstances. It doesn't come easily, but it's necessary. This week God has been pointing out through many different avenues just how blessed we are. It's easy for me to become consumed with my own little world where everyone looks and acts much like me and forget there are lots of folks out there who are less fortunate. It's easy to recognize their plight on a high level, but when names and specific people are associated with those needs, and I'm faced with the reality of families who lack even the simplest items (like a pen and paper), it's hard to grapple with. So last night as I was squishing back and forth on my carpet I was thanking God for a home with pumpkin pie in the oven and a husband who was willing to roll up his cuffs and help me out. I was also beyond thankful for Al at Home Depot who stayed open after hours to rent me a carpet fan and carpet machine. Don't know what we would have done without his generosity and willingness to help, especially on Thanksgiving-Eve. We'd probably still be down there with the shop vac. I'm thankful for friends and neighbors and family who offer support, laughter, friendship, love. I'm thankful for three healthy rambunctious kiddos. I'm thankful for my husband who loves me more than I deserve, cherishes, provides for me. And above all I'm thankful for a Lord and Saviour who redeemed me, continuously forgives, has clothed me in righteousness, hides me in the shelter of His wings, calls me daughter. I am blessed.